


Stupid Boys

by Lonliestalien



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: FWP, Fluff, Literally only for my fluff needs, M/M, My first fic, Romance, Unknown requited love, dorks being dorks, i guess, jeanmarco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4902787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonliestalien/pseuds/Lonliestalien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Marco is embarrassed and Jean starts a pillow fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stupid Boys

     Marco didn't really believe that a person could fall in love with him. To him, the mysterious yet alluring concept of love was always seen from the third person, like in a movie or on the street. Before he met him, Marco had never really been drawn to a person strongly enough to be considered as love. He'd always wanted to be swept off his feet by the man of his dreams; but that man was always trying to find his own perfect prince. Jean Kirschtein, Marco's best friend and flatmate, was definitely the man he wanted to fall head over heels with. But the freckled man was sure that if Jean knew this, it'd ruin their tightly bound friendship.

     Jean, being ever the charmer, scored his fair share of dates; but he always managed to find qualities about the guy that he had convinced himself were repulsive. And so, after every unpromising date, Jean would meander to his shared apartment, buying a bag of chips and a gallon of ice cream along the way, and complain to Marco. They'd sit on opposite ends of their couch with the spoils spread between their intermingled legs while Jean told Marco relentlessly about how screwed up this guy was. And, every time, Marco would console him, pat him on the shoulder, and say, "One day, Jean, you'll find him."

     On one of these such nights, there was a change of pace.

     "Say, Marco? Do you have a type?"

     Marco's chocolate eyes widened as a blush swallowed up his freckles.

     "Ah, w-what's this all of a sudden?" Marco stuttered, rubbing the underneath of his nose nervously.

     "I just realized you haven't been on a real date since, like, high school," Jean shoved a fistful of chips into his mouth. "I mean, here I am, yammering on about these pointless excursions while you're at home watching Netflix and cuddling your cat!"

     Marco felt his cheeks burn as he looked away, towards the glowing television screen showing muted cartoons.

     "… Not my fault you're obsessed with dating…" Marco mumbled, shrinking into the blanket wrapped around his torso.

     "Marco Jesus Bodt! Don't you dare avoid the question!" Jean exclaimed, proudly grinning at his embarrassed friend and nearly tossing the bag of chips on the floor.

     "Fine! Fine, fine. Sorry. I like guys who're... Uhm… Why do you want to know, anyway?" Marco stalled, blushing furiously, trying to think of attributes that wouldn't point obviously towards the person in front of him.

     "Marco..." Jean reprimanded, jabbing a foot into Marco's side, where he knew he could elicit giggles.

     Marco flinched and laughed, trying desperately to get away from Jean's prying foot. He tried to push the attacker away from his sensitive side but ended up pushing himself away and off the couch. He landed with a thud on the floor, but before he was able to recover from the small fall, he saw Jean scramble up from the couch. Jean swiftly snatched the nearest pillow and swung it behind his head, threatening a severe pillow assault.

     Marco, still sitting on the floor, reached up and grabbed the pillow he had been sitting upon.

     "Bring it on, Kirschtein," Marco taunted, quickly gathering his wits.

     Jean smirked, glancing at Marco with a devilish glint in his eyes. In a burst of energy and momentum, Jean leaped onto Marco, pinning him by first covering his face with the pillow and then sitting on Marco's stomach with freckled limbs crushed beneath bony knees.

     "Hah ha! Gotcha!" Boasted Jean, lifting the pillow from a dazed Marco. "Now you've got to tell me your type. Or else I'll tickle you until-"

     "Alright! Alright," breathed Marco, winded from being nearly straddled by Jean. His face, ears, and neck felt as if hot coals were being pressed into his skin. Marco never imagined being held in this position by the slightly shorter man, he figured he must have hit his head when he fell off the couch and this is but a mere figment of his love struck imagination.

     He must have been staring in awe for a moment because Jean was looking at him confusedly and frustratedly.

     "Uh, hello? Anybody in there? Ground control to Major Tom?" He tapped Marco's forehead with his index finger a few times. I guess this really is real, Marco thought.

     "Oh, yeah, sorry," Marco stumbled along his words, feeling as though all thought had drained out his ear the moment Jean had settled onto his abdomen.

     "God, you're such a friggin' dork," Jean chuckled, releasing Marco's arms but staying seated on his stomach. Marco noticed a small blush tickling Jean's cheeks and ears, as though this situation wasn't completely platonic to him. Marco smiled ridiculously, eyes crinkling as he playfully pushed at Jean's chest, hand landing on the knee still settled against his side. His face softened into a gentle upward curve of lips. Jean's tawny eyes widened laughably, the blush growing across his face. Both boys' gazes shied away, looking at anything but the other person. Marco's hand remained after receiving no objection to his advances.

     "Uh-um... Is this okay, Jean?" Marco nearly whispered.

     Jean trapped his lower lip between his teeth for a moment before deciding on a plan of action. "Well, shit, this compromises things," Jean muttered, bringing up a hand to scratch at the back of his undercut.

     Marco's eyebrows pulled together, scrunching up his forehead while he began to make a sound of confusion. Midway through his "huh?" Marco felt thin fingers, then palms, slide onto his chest above his heart. Jean's face was down turned, eyelashes shrouding his eyes, the blush still evident and growing stronger.

     "Your heart's beating really fucking fast," Jean muttered with a breathy laugh and a smirk. "Do you have a schoolgirl crush on me or somethin'?"

     Jean looked up at Marco's face with a knowing smirk and half lidded eyes. Any breath held in Marco's lungs was expelled when Marco breathed out a quiet "yeah." Jean seemed only a bit surprised, like he knew this was coming but didn't expect Marco to be so forthright. The only change in his expression was the upward spring of his eyebrows.  
Marco knew he would regret this confession later when Jean stopped talking to him out of his whopping sense of betrayal. Marco could feel the fear entering his system, twisting his stomach into a knot before he had the chance to realize that it was Jean who initiated this situation. Marco gained enough courage to trail his fingertips up Jean's thighs to rest on his hips. He must have had an unsure look upon his face because Jean cackled and patted his chest.

     "You look like I'm gonna punch you in the face! Relax, you endearing little shit."

     Marco squeezed his eyes shut, ran a hand through his hair, and cried, "Jeez, Jean, just let me figure something out. Wh-what the hell is happening and why are you okay with this?"

     "Fuck, dude, should I spell it out for you? No wonder the only relationship you have is with the fucking cat."

     Jean untangled the hand from Marco's hair and replaced it on his hip while Marco blinked open his eyes slowly. He then began winding his fingers into the short hairs at the nape of Marco's neck. Jean smirked one last time before closing his eyes and leaning down. Marco couldn't have managed to breathe if he tried, Jean was so close to his face that he could feel his breath ghosting across his lips and chin. Marco's eyes slid shut, awaiting Jean's presence against him.

     Jean kissed at Marco's upper lip before coming back and smooching him full on. Marco's arms snaked further around Jean's waist, pulling Jean down and tilting his own head to the side to let Jean have more of him. Jean's lithe fingers twisted and pulled at Marco's hair, resulting in the opening of Marco's jaw by the force of his tugs. Marco's hand slid up Jean's back to grasp at his shoulder while Jean found his way throughout Marco's mouth, gently caressing his tongue and eliciting a small moan from the freckled boy. Jean drew back slightly with a quick peck to his lower lip to peer at his blissed out friend. Marco had zoned out a bit looking into Jean's eyes, at the boy who had just ruined his chances of ever falling for another guy. Marco's hand slipped to rest on Jean's thigh again as Jean threaded his fingers into brown locks with a huge grin on his face.

     "Betcha didn't see that one comin', eh, Marco?" Jean patted the flaming surface of his best friend's cheeks a the latter looked in awe, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of his lips. Marco began to giggle at their situation, which transformed quickly into a haughty laugh and crinkly eyes as his arms squeezed Jean in a massive bear hug. Jean's arms had become trapped by the joyous mess underneath him, so he wiggled his forearms until he could poke at the sides of a freckled stomach.

     Marco squealed, launching Jean off him with his violent writhing. Jean landed a meter away, the perfect distance for Marco to tackle him and press hundreds of small kisses to the soft skin of Jean's neck and cheeks. Jean cackled a bit, winding his arms around broad shoulders and slipping his eyes closed at the fluttery feeling of lips being pressed to his skin. Once he felt a light suck underneath the pointy butt of his jawbone, he cried, "Alright, alright! Hold it there, tiger."

     Marco looked up, eyes as sad and begging as a puppy, breaking the minute amount of seriousness he had left.

     "First of all," Jean declared. "That face is totally unfair. Second, you're so fucking adorable." Marco blushed. "And thirdly, I've been going on so many dates to make you jealous so that you'd finally make a goddamned move. I mean," Jean exclaimed, bringing his hands back into a questioning gesture. "How much more freaking obvious does a guy have to be, honestly? Do you even want to know how close I was to just ripping your clothes off and-"

     "Okay! That's all my poor freckled heart can take! I thought I told you that my freckles make me allergic to sass." Marco feigned a high pitched sneeze and smiled giddily. "And, well, I guess you already know that I've basically fallen for you."

     Jean grinned proudly, pulling Marco down by his shirt and claiming his lips. They kissed sweetly at first, getting used to the intimacy being shared. Soon Jean gained confidence in his actions, attacking with the addition of teeth and a tongue. Marco could no longer taste the salty and starchy chips that Jean had shoved in his gob earlier. 

     Once Jean couldn't feel which way was up or down or feel the now gentle smacking of lips, he pressed his palm firmly against Marco's chest and pushed. They separated after what had felt like hours and Jean hummed softly.

     "So, you never did tell me your type, Marco." Jean sneered, earning a light bop on the forehead and a small nip on his cheek.

     "You're such a dork, Jean."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! This is my first fic so I need so much constructive criticism. I beta'd this a few times but if some parts don't make sense, please tell the young one over here.


End file.
